The Woman who changed their lives
by Capturing Essence
Summary: A light-hearted angsty drabble where John talks about his friendship with Sherlock and what he thinks of one Ms.Irene Adler, in his private Journal. Or more appropriately, it's a story where John describes the number of ways Sherlock is behaving like a complete prat lately! :D Spoilers for S-2.


**AN:** This is my first Sherlock Holmes fiction, hope you all like it. It is non beta-ed and non Brit-picked.I apologize in advance for the mistakes.

**SPOILERS:** Sherlock S2 Ep-1

**DISCLAIMER**: Neither 'BBC Sherlock' nor 'The adventures of Sherlock Holmes' are mine.

**Summary:**

John and Sherlock's POV about one another's and their own reactions towards Irene Adler.

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><p><strong>John's POV: <strong>_Written in his private journal. (The tone is light, it is somehow in the vein of John's blog)_

Dr. John Hamish Watson, 38 yrs old ex army surgeon, with an on again, off again psychosomatic limp and a bad shoulder who somehow landed in an enviable (not so enviable if you really look carefully) position as the great consulting detective Sherlock Holmes' flat-mate, blogger and occasionally if his highness deigns himself to be normal, his friend. Well to say the truth he is also Sherlock's personal bodyguard (protecting him against the murderous psychopaths and the equally dangerous irritated to the core yarders), chef, sounding board (successfully succeeding the 'skull') and in-toto the housekeeper which Mrs. Hudson repeatedly reminds, she isn't. This is Dr. John Watson in a nutshell and somewhere in the periphery there should be some passing mention of his small romantic stints which somehow never crosses a 3 month mark, well all thanks to one insanely brilliant mind!

Hmm, now I'm sure this is how my biographer (wishful thinking, but a man can dream can't he?) would write or may be this would be how Sherlock's biographer( more likely possibility) would write about me; a small paragraph to elicit my whole life. Sigh, seriously my life is just sounding so pathetic that without mentioning Sherlock in each line, it seems I don't even exist; it's as if I exist in relation to Sherlock and nowhere else.

Well now what can I say, it is what it is, isn't it? And I may as well accept it, it's the truth and if I don't tell the truth to myself then I have no right to expect it from others, right? Oh what the hell so here goes my thorough introspection of my feelings for the afore mentioned insane and infuriatingly brilliant detective and my odd reactions to his surprising fixation on one Ms. Irene Adler, The Woman.

Now when we are on the topic of 'feelings', I should better remind you all or in this case since I'm never going to post this (I'm not masochistic as people might think I am.) and yeah I'm not even saving this in my computer (I'm not stupid ,no password is secure when it comes to Sherlock) I am actually just reminding myself that I'm not gay. And no, not because I have some problem being one or am closeted, afterall I have my sister for my support if I was one, I'm sure she will return the favour, but it is just that I simply prefer women. Now the reason why I needed to remind everyone and myself this is because… yes I love Sherlock bloody Holmes! But it is just not in the way the whole world thinks it to be. No, not in carnal, physical intimacy craving way, not at all; this love is different. I exactly don't know how to put it in words or don't think a person who is not in my position can understand it either, but if I must compare it to something I might, a bit shamefully accept that it is something akin to a hero-worship of a sidekick.

Well, I have no doubt that I'm just Sherlock's side-kick, when it comes to the gist of the matter. Truthfully he would be just as insanely brilliant and infuriatingly magnetic even without me having entered his life at all. I have had no delusions about that fact, ever. I'm just a presence which he needed at first as a flat mate, but now since he getting good money from the cases, even that is not necessary. I'm just an excess in his life, which he somehow is kind enough to bear with. It is me who is completely enamored by his brilliant deductions, that almost every time I hear him say something intelligent I just open my mouth and gape. It is pathetic, but it is what the truth is. I am the one who is truly addicted here; addicted to the thrill of chases and danger, which admittedly nobody else can provide in a civilian life (Mycroft was right after all). In short, I love that gorgeous, annoying idiot and God help me, but there is no curing it.

So there, since I have established my stand with Sherlock, I guess now people can understand why I reacted the way I reacted, okay okay, why I was jealous of Irene Adler. It was because I , John Watson even after being with Sherlock for almost two bloody years now, accompanying him into most dangerous situations and spending almost every hour of my pathetic life with him, doesn't warrant even the basic acknowledgement that I'm not at home and some woman, okay may be a beautiful manipulative woman, comes along , and after just one eventful meeting in which she drugs him ,slaps him and tricks him ,steals his mobile and puts some hideous sound for her message tone and harasses him with almost 60 messages and then goes and dies, well fakes death, and he; Sherlock bloody Holmes falls for the sham, even tricks the poor Mycroft (who in turn ends up breaking my latest romantic attempt), comes home and starts composing sad, soulful music! Can you imagine my fury? _Bloody composing, _not even playing something he already knows, no he had to think of her and compose one of the most beautiful music I have heard to mourn her death! I really doubt if he will even notice my death. Ok, maybe that is a little bit too harsh, he would surely notice it, may be a little late, but he surely will. But I have big doubts that he will mourn my death by composing mournful music, though. Sigh.

And well the story did not stop there did it? Nope, she had to come back, almost seduce him to be a traitor and then end up being dead , but this time in real, if Mycroft's words are anything to go by. And after all this, when you imagine he would despise her, he goes and keeps that wretched phone as a souvenir, for god's sake! How am I supposed to be not jealous? Well I might be petty, but I don't care if she is dead, I'm still bloody jealous of her.

Oh my God! Look at what I just wrote? What has Sherlock made me into? A monster; I'm sure, because for Christ's sake now I'm jealous of a dead sex worker and few days back I was jealous of a consulting criminal when Sherlock was going crazy solving his bomb puzzles! If this keeps up I will end up being jealous of every serial killer who is going engage Sherlock's curiosity with his triple or more murders in locked from inside rooms! Enough is enough; it's high time I got my act together. It is just totally pathetic that now I wish I was actually gay, because at least then I can say I'm pining for him in a romantic way, because now the whole thing just seems so ridiculous.

Hmm come to think of it, I think the only way I can still salvage my little bit of dignity left is to find some nice woman, sincerely court her (by which I mean, no ditching her in the middle of a date to fetch milk or whatever stupid things my annoying flat-mate demands, no matter how important and life saving, he makes it out to be!) and then marry and settle somewhere nice with her and that somewhere is preferably far-far away from Baker street.

It is not that I will be leaving Sherlock in a lurch, no ; I highly doubt he will miss me, maybe I can beg Mrs. Hudson to return the skull back to him, even gift him another to keep his original one company, so the skull is not left lonely. And if he so wishes, I may even allow him to name a skull John, since he is so used to calling my name regardless of my physical presence or not. He will survive, he will still be amazing, gorgeous and spectacular and well heaven forbiddingly mad… but he will survive and survive just fine. It is a little sad to think that I'm so expendable in his life, but well, isn't that actually the problem in the first place?

And here I forgot the most important thing, I'm talking about all this as if I'm going to get someone who would love me at a drop of a hat, huh, I'm no Sherlock Holmes, lean, mean and angular with Greek god statue looks, I'm the scar shouldered, short, stumpy doctor whom not many would consider a handsome chap, in those earlier military days maybe, but definitely not now.

So I guess I better start trying harder and may be this time not just for an easy shag or a place to sleep when Sherlock becomes unbearable, but somebody with whom I can truly relate, with somebody I can see a future with and foremost, somebody who can tolerate Sherlock and all his antics atleast till we both are sharing a flat and preferably even after...

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> This is dedicated to everyone who saw the episode and thought "aww sweet heart, don't worry I'm listening to you.", every time John asked if anyone is interested in hearing what he thinks. :)

Reviews are highly appreciated._ Thank you._


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